Out of the Darkness, a Thieves in Time story 13
by Orion Lyonesse
Summary: Can the healers of Darkover bring Avon back from his shattered madness? And will Vila still be there? Follows 'Cry in the Darkness.' A/V
1. Approach to Darkover

_A/N: This story comes after CRY IN THE DARKNESS and follows Avon's healing on Darkover, a planet and culture belonging entirely to Marion Zimmer Bradley, as Avon and Vila belong to Terry Nation and BBC. _

_If you haven't explored Bradley's world of Darkover, run, don't walk, to your nearest library! Go ahead, I'll wait._

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The ship was on automatics, thankfully, for Vila and Cally both had their hands full caring for the almost helpless Avon. Oh, he could and would eat if prodded, did see to his personal needs, such as they were, and would even nod or murmur a yes or no if questioned. But he would do little else. True, Cally had brought him back from the deep prison of his mind, but he refused to accept his freedom and she had steadfastly refused to force it on him by linking with his psyche a third time.

Vila sat now on a shipping crate he was using as a chair, beside Avon's bed, watching him sleep. Even in repose, there was no peace on his face. A frown of pain creased his forehead, his hands alternately bunched then loosed their grip on the covers. It was all Vila could do to keep from pulling him into his arms, holding him close and, hopefully, soothing whatever inner torments pursued him. Cally, however, had counseled against it, saying it might make Avon uncomfortable. Vila had agreed, though it was one of the most difficult things he ever remembered having to do.

"Vila?" Cally called softly from the doorway. "We'll be entering Cottman airspace in a little over two hours. Are your belongings packed?"

He turned, a wry grimace on his face. "That took me all of five minutes, Cally. All we have is ORAC and the clothes on our backs." He sighed. "Has ORAC made contact with the planet's computers yet?"

"No. Their technology doesn't use tarriel cells so the capacity for communication is very limited. He was able to gather some information on the culture of the world however, if you're interested."

The thief stood, looking back at Avon. "I suppose he'll be all right for a little while."

"He should be, Vila. The sedative I gave him will keep him asleep until we land."

"Well then, I guess I'd better learn all I can about this place that's to be our home for however long it takes for Avon to get well." Running a nervous hand through his thinning sandy hair, he followed Cally back to the flight deck, taking an unoccupied chair. He thought it was navigation or comm, but didn't really know or care. "ORAC, tell me about the planet we're headed for," he asked politely. It wouldn't do to alienate the irascible supercomputer at this stage. Soon, it might be his only contact with the outside world and Cally.

+It is the fourth planet orbiting Cottman's Star. Average mean temperature at the equator is ten degrees Celsius during the summer months and minus 50 during the winter season. It is habitable with some vegetation but life is difficult even for the natives.+

Vila frowned. It didn't sound at all appealing. "Well, they must have evolved a technology or we couldn't land there."

+From my research, I have discovered that the world quite probably was colonized may centuries ago by travelers from Earth. Their legends tell of the settlement at that time, as well as their possible interbreeding with a native sentient species, which produced a race of telepaths.+

"Telepaths?" he asked, startled, casting a quick glance at Cally, busy with the flight controls. She'd been listening, though, meeting his eyes with a raised eyebrow. "You mean like Cally?"

+No. The telepathy there takes many forms. Some are senders such as the Auronar, some receptors. There are other unspecified gifts as well.+

"I'm not so sure I like this, ORAC," Vila said hesitantly. "But then again, I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

+Not if the survival of Avon is to be considered…and mine.+

"All right, ORAC, anything else we need to know?"

+From my research, I have also determined that the political situation of this world is precarious at times.+

Vila drug one hand down his face. "Great. I suppose they're in the midst of their own rebellion." Frying pan into the fire, that's all he needed.

+On the contrary, Vila. It is just that their culture is clan based and periodically erupts into small uprisings. There are six major groups that vie for power and each one has its own ideas of how their world should be governed.+

He looked over at Cally. "Are you sure coming here was a good idea?"

"Yes, Vila, I am positive. I've done some investigation on my own and, while what ORAC says is true, basically the planet is a good place for Avon to recover. You'll just have to be careful and learn to fit in."

"I've never had a problem fitting in anywhere," he admitted, "but what about Avon?"

"Until he's recovered, at least partially, I don't think you'll have to worry about him."

"So how are we supposed to go about finding a healer on this world?"

"From what ORAC has told me," she replied, "when we land, we'll just have to make our needs known to their authorities." She seemed confident of that, though Vila thought she was being a bit naïve; this was, after all, an alien planet, peopled by telepaths and who knew what else? At least it was non-Federation. They were far, far from the borders of Federation space, for which Vila was extremely grateful.

"I hate authorities," Vila muttered, "but I guess I'll manage." He was staring, empty-minded, at the forward screen, when he was jolted back to reality by a strange voice.

UNRECOGNIZED CRAFT, YOU ARE ENTERING RESTRICTED AIRSPACE. PLEASE IDENTIFY. The stern voice issued from the ship's speaker, making even Cally jump and hastily reach for the comm switch.

Projecting a calm she hadn't yet managed to put in place, she replied, "This is the Auron shuttle PAXON requesting permission to land at your spaceport."

STATE YOUR PURPOSE, PAXON.

"We are seeking medical attention for a member of our crew." Vila held his breath. This was where things could go wrong. They could be rejected out of hand, leaving them with no idea where to get help for Avon. He bit his lip and leaned forward in his chair, as though trying to prove their peaceful intent to the comm speaker.

WHAT IS THE NATURE OF THE CONDITION, PAXON?

"Physical and mental trauma only. There is no danger of contamination." She tried to put as much innocence and urgency as she could into her reply.

After a few moments, while both Cally and Vila forgot to breathe, the voice came back: PERMISSION GRANTED. DO YOU REQUIRE FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS?

"Just a landing beacon," Cally responded with relief. "We'll follow it in, if that's allowed."

IT IS. PLEASE STAND BY TO RECEIVE.

Vila reached up and switched the ship's onboard computer to receive mode, then heard a faint 'beep beep', growing louder as they drew closer to the port.

"Switching to manual," Cally said as she took the controls. "Man the secondary guidance, please, Vila."

He moved to the third seat on the flight deck and dropped into it. "I'm no pilot under the best circumstances, Cally," he protested plaintively.

"I know, Vila, but I want you here just in case. This is unfamiliar territory and back-up is always appreciated."

Her reassuring smile eased his worry a trifle, but failed to banish it completely. Vila looked over the controls, picking out the ones he thought he knew, but he didn't dare to touch any of them. "I should see to Avon," he fretted.

"He will be all right, Vila," she said, never taking her eyes off the control panel and its flashing lights and readouts.

Vila watched tensely as Cally guided the ship into the atmosphere.

ON FINAL APPROACH, PAXON. BE PREPARED FOR BOARDING UPON TOUCHDOWN.

"Why do you suppose they said that?" Vila wondered fearfully. "Don't they trust us?"

"Standard procedure, probably," she assured him absently. "After all, they have no idea who or even what we are. I would have been more worried if they'd allowed us to land unchallenged."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," he conceded. "Still. I assume you have an adequate supply of hand weapons on board."

"Under your seat, Vila," she said with amusement, gesturing with her head. "There are two complete rigs. Get them out, if you'll be happier."

He reached down and pulled out two gunbelts, blasters and extra power packs for both of them. Fastening his own about his waist, he took the controls gingerly while Cally donned hers, relinquishing the controls with a sigh of relief when she was done.

"Just above surface now," she informed him shortly. "Touchdown in approximately thirty seconds."

They settled easily on the landing platform. Cally glanced out the viewport, seeing a group of uniformed security waiting just outside blast range. Behind them, she saw several fairly standard, grey featureless buildings that wouldn't have been out of place in any fringe Federation spaceport.

"Well, at least they aren't holding guns on us…yet," Vila sniffed, looking over her shoulder. He left to check on Avon as Cally triggered the main hatch and waited for their reception committee.

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_A/N: What sort of reception will they get? Is this really the place where they can make Avon whole again?_


	2. Reception

_A/N: The usual disclaimers apply: I don't own either Blake's Seven or Darkover. I just enjoy messing with the characters._

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They had barely powered the ship down when a voice spoke from beyond the entrance hatch. "Permission to come aboard?" At Cally's invitation, a tall, auburn-haired man walked up the ramp, both hands out and empty, though he wore a sidearm on his hip. "Welcome to Terran Trade City. I'm Commander Lewis of the Space Force on Darkover. Please state your name and origin."

"I am Cally of Auron," she answered formally. "I carry two passengers, both of Earth. They are Vila Restal and his bondmate Kerr Avon."

"You said one of your crew required medical assistance?"

"Yes, the one called Avon. He received physical and mental trauma in a recent battle and is in need of total care. We were told that your world has the best psychic healers available anywhere in the known universe. We brought him here for that purpose."

"You were correctly informed, Cally of Auron." He nodded his head, favoring her with a smile.

She nodded in return.

"Cally?" Vila called from the corridor. "Avon is still sleeping. It's going to be some time before the sedative wears off, I'm afraid."

"Do you require other assistance?" the commander queried, quirking a rusty eyebrow at her.

She considered a moment. "Would it be possible to acquire a mobile unit to transport our passenger, commander?"

"Of course," he replied, turning to call out to his troops outside the ship. "Have someone from Medical send over a stretcher."

"At once, sir."

Turning back to Cally, he asked, "While we're waiting, I need to ask you a few questions."

"Certainly," she replied calmly. She quite liked the look of this young officer, and his businesslike manner had put her at ease.

"I'd like a few more specifics on your passenger's injuries. You said it was a battle injury, I believe."

Cally perched on the arm of her pilot's chair, throwing an arm around the high back for balance. "Partially," she answered him, "But the stress has been cumulative, occurring over the last few years, while the shock and the physical trauma were received a few days ago…when his best friend was killed." She didn't see any point in telling this nice man with authority over their future that Avon had done the killing.

"I see," Commander Lewis mused. "I sense there is much more to the story but that is best left to the experts."

They were interrupted at that point by a younger trooper and a medical officer with a stretcher.

"Shall we see to your other passengers, then?"

They followed Cally to Avon's cabin. When he found Vila hovering nervously next to an unconscious dark man, the commander asked, "Do you need help with him?"

"No!" Vila protested, eyes wide in panic. "He wouldn't want anyone to touch him but me!"

Commander Lewis protested, "But he's unconscious."

Vila looked down at Avon as he quietly replied, "He'd know, just the same. I'll take care of him myself."

The thief picked his bondmate up in his arms and placed him on the stretcher, still uncomfortable with the lightness of the burden. Covering him with a proffered blanket, he squeezed Avon's hand and held it as they exited the ship. Cally and the commander remained behind, discussing arrangements in privacy.

Lewis began, "We'll admit him to our medical section and contact an adept that I'm acquainted with. She should be able to help."

"I don't know how to thank you, commander," Cally said with a quiet smile, looking up into the young man's eyes, a clear green color that reminded her of new spring leaves. "Without the help available to him here, I'm not sure Avon would survive much longer.

"We're not miracle workers, either, but the people here who have inherited the powers of the mind will do all they can." He turned to an aide, waiting patiently just outside the hatch. "Please contact the Lady Gwenneth and ask her to meet with me as soon as possible. Offer transport if she requires it."

"At once, sir." The aide strode off, taking a different route than the medical stretcher.

"Commander," Cally began, now that they were alone. "I sensed it might prove difficult to get the help we need. Can you elaborate?"

"Well, perhaps difficult is not the right word." He stood and began to pace, pressing his lips together into a tight line. "You see, our world is still considered backward and primitive by almost all who visit here from more advanced cultures. However, the system as it is functions better than a more technologically-based one could, given the conditions here."

"I did a little research before we landed. My computer informed me that your government is a clan-based one with very little centralized control. I assume you are referring to that?"

"Yes. And while we do have unrest from time to time, it is a local problem and dealt with quickly, with a minimum of fuss."

"Well, since we are the aliens here, I shall defer to your wisdom."

Vila returned at that moment, informing Cally, "He's sleeping comfortably, but I don't want to leave him for more than a few minutes, just in case. If he wakes in a strange place, alone, it might cause problems."

"I understand," the commander agreed. "You have my leave to stay as long as you need to. And the Lady Gwenneth should be arriving shortly. She is a personal friend and one of the most skilled in mind-touch healing that I know."

"Thank you, Commander Lewis. We appreciate all your help," Cally said, her face set in formal lines appropriate for dealing with authorities.

Vila led Cally to Avon's room, one of those you could find on just about any world: anonymous grey-green walls, metal bed, white sheets and blankets, mysterious metal boxes beeping and flashing their messages.

The tech was just beginning to stir from his sedated lethargy and Vila went quickly to his side. "Avon…can you hear me?" Vila touched him gently on the side of the face, a tender caress meant to calm the both of them, Cally thought.

A low moan escaped the other man's lips, his eyes opened, and he looked around fearfully. "…re am I?"

"It's all right, Avon," Vila soothed, perching on the edge of the bed so Avon could see him. "I'm here and you're with people who can help you."

"Blake…" he asked, his head twisting about, perhaps trying to catch sight of the man.

"Blake's…gone, Avon, don't you remember?" Vila whispered close to his ear.

"…don't know…"

"Don't try to talk, Avon. Just rest," Vila said. "There's a healer on the way."

"Vila…" Avon's eyes opened wider and he reached out a hand. "Vila…"

The thief clasped his lover's hand and held on very tightly. "I won't leave you and I won't let anyone hurt you again, I promise." He straightened his back, hitching his shoulders back, his face set and determined. Cally was briefly startled at the man's body language. As long as she'd known him, he'd always seemed…oh, like he had an immense weight on his shoulders, like he wanted to be invisible. Now, though…it was like an Alpha had emerged from the Delta, one who was responsible and meant to take charge, at least of himself and Avon.

"…love…" Avon muttered.

"No, Avon, not now." Vila's eyes met Cally's, and he spoke to her. "When the time's right, when he's aware of what he's saying…but not like this."

She understood and nodded.

"Excuse me, I am Lady Gwenneth. Lewis sent me." The unfamiliar voice belonged to a tiny, exquisite woman with dark eyes and lustrous bright red hair. She seemed to glide into the room, her heavy, long garb trailing the floor and looking so out of place against the antiseptic sameness of the port hospital.

Cally stepped forward, bowing slightly. "I am Cally of Auron. This is Vila Restal and Kerr Avon, both of Earth."

"The commander said you could help Avon," Vila broke in nervously, suddenly fearful that perhaps this woman, this planet even, wouldn't live up to its reputation, and leave Avon forever in this half-way condition, confused, lethargic, a child really. His heart ached with apprehension.

"I will do all I can," she said kindly, smiling at him with gentle warmth.

Vila felt an inexplicable confidence in this woman with her flaming red hair and almost barbaric dress. "My bondmate, Avon…he's had a great shock to his mind and…"

"There is no need to explain further, Dom Restal. He will have to be moved to a place where I can see to him in more familiar, secure surroundings."

"Go ahead, Vila," Cally told him. "I'll see about getting us a place to stay, for a few days at least. And I'll see to your things," she said arching an eyebrow, meaning ORAC. At the moment, though, Vila cared nothing about anything except Avon.

"Better find something more permanent for me, Cally. I don't intend to leave Avon behind and I have a feeling this is going to be a long siege," he told her distractedly.

"I believe you're right, but, once the two of you are settled, I must go back to my home. I have responsibilities there that won't wait and that others are unable to carry on for me."

That caught Vila's attention. He blinked twice, processing her words. Of course she couldn't stay with them. But he'd be on his own, then, wouldn't he. He gulped. It felt like, all of a sudden, he was the designated leader. He'd never wanted that. Ever. Yet, it was what he had to do, to protect Avon until he was well…if that ever happened. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the roiling of his stomach and the shaking in his hands. "We'll be all right, Cally. Don't worry."

Cally turned back one last time before leaving the room, wondering if this was indeed the right thing for her friends. Vila was standing protectively beside Avon's bed, one hand resting on his shoulder.

Vila had almost hid the quiver of his voice, but Gwenneth wasn't deceived. Smiling to reassure him, she offered, "I'll arrange with Commander Lewis for suitable transport for you and your mate. The sooner we are away from here, the better I'll feel."

"Why?" Vila wondered aloud. Was there something he'd failed to consider, some danger threatening them?

"No," she assured him. "It's just that the noise from the unshielded minds here is distracting to me. I need to be among my own people where I can concentrate."

Vila breathed a relieved sign. This he could understand, well, no, he didn't understand, but he could accept it, anyway. "You sound like Cally," he told her, smiling tentatively.

"Your friend is a telepath then?"

"Yes, but not from your world," he explained. "She is an Auron and I don't really know much about how her power works. She can send messages to my head without speaking but I don't think she can do anything else like that."

"Perhaps I can get acquainted with her before she has to depart," she said speculatively. "It might prove interesting, talking with a telepath from a world other than this one."

"I think she'd enjoy that."

A young man entered. "Lady Gwenneth, I have your transport ready. We await you at the front entrance."

"Power transport, I hope," she said, concerned. "Anything else might prove too jarring for this man's condition."

"Yes, Lady. It is powered," the aide hastened to reassure her. "We have permission for the ship to go beyond the city's boundaries."

"Good." She nodded to the young man, then turned back to Vila. "Is he able to walk at all?"

"He's been under heavy sedation for the past few hours," Vila answered. "He's likely to be weak. I'll have to help him." He pulled back the covers and urged Avon to a shaky standing position. "Come on, let's go get you settled and start working on getting you better."

"…better…" Avon echoed and walked slowly, holding to Vila's arm.

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"I think he'll be much more comfortable here, don't you?"

Vila had to admit the truth of it as he looked around the room. The feather bed, quilts, drapes, wall hangings all looked like something out of an old holovid from centuries past. He half expected to see ghost rise from behind the furniture or up through the floor.

Gwenneth felt his unease and chuckled. "Have no fear, Vila. You and your mate are quite safe here."

"Well, it's just that…"

"I understand," she told him. "It's always this way for someone who's never been away from the Terran City. Once you get used to our way of life, you may find you prefer it."

"I'm not so sure of that, but I'll give it a go," he said, his lips twisting up on one side in an attempt at a smile.

"Well," she began, "I believe he should rest now in preparation for his healing sessions. If I may, I would like to speak at length with you before I do anything else."

"With me?" Vila squeaked in surprise, his eyebrows racing toward his receding hairline. How could he contribute to Avon's healing? Not that he wouldn't do anything, anything at all, for Avon, to help get him better. Just…what did she want to know? And how could he…edit all that had happened? He couldn't let her know about…all the people Avon had killed. She wouldn't want to help him then, would she?

Gwenneth watched with amused interest as a variety of emotions chased across Vila's face. "That's right. I sense that you know much of what is troubling him and that it troubles you as well. Am I right?" she probed gently.

Vila looked down, then back into her brilliant green eyes. He couldn't be anything but honest with this perceptive woman. She reminded him suddenly of Cally, seeing and understanding more than was comfortable. Honesty, that was the key, he felt. He swallowed his reservations and nodded. "Yes," he said simply.

"I thought as much." She turned to the bed where Avon lay amid the medieval surroundings, awake but unresponsive to anything around him. Placing her hand on Avon's forehead, she murmured, "Sleep."

They left him with a look of peace on his face that Vila hadn't seen for years.

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_A/N: Oh dear, what will Vila tell Lady Gwenneth about Avon and their past? And will she still want to help Avon, when she learns all that he's done?_


	3. Vila Tells All

_A/N: The usual disclaimers apply: I don't own either Blake's Seven or Darkover. I just enjoy messing with the characters._

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"Now," Gwenneth said as she handed Vila a glass of deep red wine, "suppose we begin at the beginning."

Vila's gulped. "Beginning?"

"Yes. Tell me everything, about you and about your freemate. How you met, anything that might prove to be important in my healing of his mind."

"You're really sure about this?" Vila asked, scratching at his head, brow furrowed.

"Don't leave anything out, no matter how insignificant it seems. Even small details could make a difference."

"All right then." Vila sighed wearily, accepting the inevitable. He leaned back, beginning his story, no, their story.

"I met Avon when we were six years old…"

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"…that must have been difficult for you."

"It was," Vila agreed. "He and Blake were lovers for almost two years and I was there the whole time."

"A love such as you have for him is a rare thing indeed."

Vila actually blushed at her declaration.

"But continue. I sense there is much more I must know."

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"…and that's when he found the neutron star particle and pushed it out the airlock. If he hadn't, I think he probably would have killed me to save himself."

"The survival instinct in Avon is very strong then?"

"Yes. That's probably the reason he's alive today, so I suppose I should be grateful for it."

"What else? Your other companion spoke of the death of Avon's best friend. Can you tell me about that?"

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"…and he shot him. Three times. At point blank range. I…I'll have nightmares myself about it for the rest of my life. It's no wonder Avon went 'round the bend."

"And this is the same Blake who was his lover for two years?"

Vila nodded mutely.

She was beginning to understand.

"Vila, it appears that from all you've said, it will be a difficult time ahead…for all of us."

"Do you have any idea how long it will take?"

She shook her head slowly. "I cannot even guarantee I'll be successful. There's no way I could guess how long something like this will last."

"You mean, he might never be well?" Vila asked fearfully.

"Vila, from all that you've told me, Avon has a lifetime of hurt that must be healed. I must take him back to the beginning, help him to face all that happened and confront all the demons he's convinced are out to defeat him. He must overcome all his fears and disappointments and he must also learn to accept the mistakes he made. He must understand that he is only human. And above all…he must learn to trust again. His mind is all but shattered, as well as his soul. Even if he appears normal after a time, he could fall prey to his illness and relapse. You will have to be on guard against that for the rest of your lives. Are you willing to do that for him?" she asked gently.

"Yes." It was a simple answer but in that one word Vila Restal committed himself to Avon more irrevocable than he had ever done before. "When…we were bonded that first time, I promised him I would always stay by his side. I won't break that promise…ever!"

"Then, I think there's a very good chance he'll recover."

"But it will take time?" Vila hazarded.

"I would estimate at least a year before he's completely himself, though he'll be able to function after only a short time with us."

"How long is a year on this world?" Vila asked, aware anew that they were on an alien world and at the mercy of a partly-non-human race.

"By Earth standards, 389 days. It might take a little longer but, with your help, it could be a little less. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Well, in the meantime, I'll need a place to stay and some way to earn a living. Oh, and I'll pay you, of course, for Avon's stay here and all you're doing for him."

"That will be totally up to you as far as payment goes. Do you have a salable skill?"

He blushed at that.

"Have I said something to offend you?" she asked, concerned by his reaction.

"No," Vila replied. "It's just that on Earth, before all this happened, I was best at…being a thief." He grimaced ruefully. "I hardly think that's a fitting profession here."

She laughed easily. "No, it's not, but…tell me, how are you with children?"

"Children? Well, pretty good, I should imagine. It's been along time, but I came from a large extended family. Always did enjoy being around the young ones. Why?"

"There are many children on the estate that borders the tower grounds. I know they are seeking someone for the position of tutor for them, in exchange for room and board and a small stipend."

"I…I suppose I might make a go at that. My formal education was limited but Avon helped me through the years and I think I learned quite a bit from him."

"It will only be the basics, you know, reading, writing, some basic arithmetic. The boys especially won't need to know much beyond that. They're expected to learn the arts of war quite young and that leaves little room for any other knowledge."

"I'll do what I can, if they're willing to trust me."

"Vila," she said, looking at him seriously. "You may not know it, but you've projected a strong, positive image to me during the time we've been talking. I know you are trustworthy, even if you do not."

"You do?" He blinked. He'd told her about his whole life while telling her about Avon, so interwoven had they been. She knew how he'd earned his living on Earth, as well as his rebel activities. And yet she was saying she trusted him enough to vouch for him to others. He felt a glow of warmth that he hadn't felt since he'd lost his family, all those years ago.

"Yes," she said, smiling. She liked this man who'd gone through hell to stay beside his mate, losing everything. Such steadfastness spoke clearly to her of the worth of the person.

Rising from her chair, she held out an elegant hand to Vila. "I imagine Avon is due to be wakened and made to eat his supper about now. Would you please assist me?"

Vila looked at her hand, then up into her lovely, compassionate eyes, and smiled as he accepted her help, both in rising from the settee he'd been perched on the edge of and for her aid in taking care of Avon. He had faith in her, faith that she could bring Avon back from wherever he was, faith that she could somehow put the shattered pieces of Avon's mind back together, faith that, somewhere in the future, she would bring Avon come back to him, and they would have forever together.

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_A/N: Can Lady Gwenneth really heal Avon? Better question: will he LET her heal him?_


	4. Healing Begins

_A/N: The usual disclaimers apply: I don't own either Blake's Seven or Darkover. I just enjoy messing with the characters._

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After their journey, Vila had settled himself into an impersonal guest chamber in this vast stone place Lady Gwenneth called a tower. Avon, after his initial fright at the unfamiliar transport, had allowed Vila to make him comfortable in the strange room that was to be his.

Later, Vila was pleasantly surprised when Avon actually ate most of the provided meal without prodding and even managed to carry on a conversation of sorts. He felt encouraged that the other man was able to digest a few of the facts about this world and what was happening. Avon even asked a few lucid questions of his own before his eyelids drooped in exhaustion.

"Go back to sleep, then, Avon," Vila whispered, positioning him more comfortably against the pillow, removing the meal's remains and covering him for the night. "I'll see you in the morning."

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"Well, Avon, did you sleep well?" Gwenneth spoke softly to the man in the bed. It was morning and the sun shone brightly through his window, laying a red-gold rectangle on the grey paving stones. She'd waited until Avon and Vila had broken their fast with a simple but hearty breakfast, as they had since they'd arrived. Vila had seldom left Avon's side in that time, but now she'd shooed him off to explore her library. She sat in the padded wooden chair beside Avon's bed, her red robes pooled about her feet, her bright hair twined into a thick braid lying down her back.

"Yes." It was barely above a whisper, but at least he did respond to her. "How long have I been here?"

"A few days. Don't you remember?"

"Everything's fuzzy, like a dream."

"Well, that's normal, considering what you've been through."

He tried to sit up but failed, falling heavily back against the pillows. "You've talked to Vila, haven't you?" he asked wearily.

"He told me most of the facts I needed to know, but there are some things I'd like to hear from you."

"I'm afraid I don't feel much like talking just now." His eyes drooped closed.

"Avon?" She shook him gently. "Look at me."

With difficulty, he managed to open his eyes. She was close now, staring into them. "Don't resist me, Avon," she commanded.

"No, please…" he begged. "I don't want to remember."

She pulled back then and picked up a glass beside the bed, adding two drops of a thick golden liquid to the water and handed it back to him. "Drink this," she directed firmly.

"No drugs…" he protested.

"It's just something to make you feel better, less resistant to my help," she assured him.

He seemed to understand and tipped the glass back, draining the contents. "What was it?"

"It's called Kirian. Distilled from flowers native to this world. It…lowers the mental barriers."

"Leaves me unprotected…"

She could see his rising panic and rushed to reassure him. "Not in the sense you mean, but it will help my mind make contact with yours, so I can begin to help you."

"But what if I don't want to be helped?" he queried forlornly, turning his face away.

"You don't mean that, Avon. There's someone else in your life, someone who cares very much that you do recover. Have you forgotten him?"

"Vila…" he whispered. "No, I haven't forgotten. It just seems like so long ago, so far away…" His voice was growing thicker, his tongue didn't seem to want to cooperate. He grew drowsy as the Kirian took effect.

Gwenneth moved in closer again, putting her fingertips on Avon's forehead. "Allow me to enter your mind, Avon…drop your shields. Let me help you…" Her hypnotic voice had the desired effect and Avon relaxed as he felt her soothing mind touch.

"Help…me…" he murmured. "Please…"

Gwenneth's voice penetrated the fog-shrouded barrier in his mind. "Can you hear me, Avon?"

"…yes…" a tentative whisper answered.

"I want to help you."

"…help me…" he repeated.

"We're going on a journey, Avon, a very long journey. Will you accompany me?"

"…willing…" The answer was Kirian soaked but expected.

Gwenneth then dropped her own shields and linked with Kerr Avon's shattered mind. She was profoundly moved at what she found. The mental distrust, a form of subtle madness, was uppermost, yet beneath that was a very stable genius from many years before. It was that person she caught and held onto. That was the person she had to convince to pick up the pieces and do battle for the broken man they'd brought to her. She only hoped that genius would be strong enough, with her help, to put all those pieces back together again.

She began, "Avon, why are you hiding?"

"…he's looking for me," the answer came in a higher, almost childish voice. "He'll hurt me. I didn't mean it, why doesn't he love me?" The question ended in a sob.

"It's all right, Avon, he can't hurt you anymore."

She pulled back and saw that the man was curled into a fetal position, shivering. She again reassured him, then moved on.

The voice was still immature but more adolescent as Avon spoke again. "…I do love you, Vila…just can't tell you…"

"He knows you do, Avon. It's all right."

"He does…?" This time the brown eyes opened, seeming almost aware for a few seconds before they closed again, their owner retreating into himself.

"…protect you, Tynus…won't tell them…"

"And did you protect him?"

"…awhile…but I killed him…later…betrayed me…"

"Tynus betrayed you?"

"…just like Anna…"

"Anna betrayed you, too?"

"…loved her…betrayed me…killed her…"

"Who else betrayed you, Avon?"

"…all did…my mother, Servalan, Tynus, Anna…and Blake."

It was a bitter adult speaking now. Gwenneth knew she had to move very cautiously. She had peeled away all the layers and must put them back just as carefully, but in their proper perspective. It was Avon's only hope for the future and a return to sanity.

"Tell me about Blake," she commanded softly, wondering how much longer the effects of the Kirian would last.

"…Blake…" The voice dropped to a plaintive whisper. "I thought he loved me…"

"But he didn't?"

"…used me…betrayed me…" His voice rose, moaning desperately, as he began grabbing at handfuls of air. "…betrayed me…killed him."

"It's all right, Avon. Vila told me what happened."

"…Vila didn't betray me…" His body quieted, his face relaxed. The woman marveled at the way the very mention of his freemate could calm the distraught man. There was a great love between these two men, no matter what had happened between them over the years, and she could build on that solid platform, she thought.

"Vila loves you, Avon…"

"…my lifeline…" His voice was calm, almost serene.

"Hold to that, Avon. Follow it back to the present. He will be here for you. Admit that you love him and need him. He wants to help you. He's strong. Let him carry your burden for a time."

"…Vila…love you…"

He collapsed against the pillows, exhausted, as the sedative effects of the Kirian took over and he slept, finally.

Now, as Avon was completely open to her, Gwenneth reached for something she'd thought she had touched and was rewarded. Yes, there it was, the faintly glowing telepathic shield. This man had kept a part of his mind secret even from himself. It was likely he'd been so terrified of what had happened the few times he'd allowed himself to use that hidden talent that he had tried to bury it forever.

_Well, Avon, we'll have to see about re-awakening that part of your mind and helping you come to terms with it. Perhaps some training…when you're ready,_ she thought, pleased.

Gwenneth brushed damp hair off the man's forehead, noting the streaks of silver that seemed to have intensified even over the past few hours. "Rest now," she said softly. "You have done well."

She pulled the blanket up over him, rebuilt her own mental shields, then left him to sleep off the rest of the drug.

Much later he opened his eyes and blinked uncertainly.

"You are feeling stronger now, Avon?" Gwenneth looked up, putting aside the heavy tome she'd been reading.

"Not really, but I'm not feeling any worse. I suppose that's something." The effort of stringing that many words together seemed almost too much for him.

"Well, our first session was more successful than I could have hoped. Would you like to hear what I discovered?" she asked gently.

Avon made a face. "Must I?"

"I think so," she said, amused at his petulant behavior.

"Well, since you seem to have a captive audience…" He trailed off, bowing his head as though under a heavy burden or waiting for expected punishment.

She smiled and nodded. "Besides the other things, it appears you possess telepathic powers of you own, though apparently you were unaware of them."

He started, looking up in surprise. "I do?"

"Strongly shielded, however, and unused for many years."

"I never knew."

"I think perhaps you did, but chose to barricade yourself against them in defense."

"But there's never been any evidence of such."

"There may have been, though you didn't recognize it for what it was at the time."

"Lady Gwenneth," he began, sitting up, feeling a little stronger, his interest piqued. "I'd appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this…not just yet."

"Not even Vila?" She arched an elegant eyebrow at him.

He shook his head emphatically. "It might frighten him. I'll tell him myself…when the time is right."

"I think you underestimate him, Avon," she said. "He's told me much about your lives together, how you met as well as much of what happened to you during the past few years. My joining minds with you only confirmed what he said."

He huffed the barest of chuckles. "Vila always did have a problem keeping his mouth shut."

"He loves you very much. It was necessary for me to obtain as much information as I could before seeking a cure for your mind-wound."

That was getting too close to too many private feelings for Avon's comfort. "I'm tired," he said abruptly, closing his eyes again, effectively ending the interview.

"Of course," she said, understanding completely. Standing, she pulled the blankets over him once more. "Sleep now and we'll talk later."

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_A/N: Now that Gwenneth has seen Avon's mind for herself, in all its shattered pieces, can she heal him enough for him to ever leave the tower?_


	5. Almost There

_A/N: The usual disclaimers apply: I don't own either Blake's Seven or Darkover. I just enjoy messing with the characters._

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Vila sat in the tower parlour as he'd done on his daily visits for the past six months. He wondered, as he always did, if today would be the day he would hear the words he so needed to hear: 'Avon will be all right.' He hadn't given up but it was not getting any easier to hope. He was startled from his gloomy thoughts by the soft footsteps of the Lady Gwenneth.

"Vila," she greeted him gently.

"Yes," he said hopefully, eagerly.

"Avon is showing much improvement today. Perhaps all our hard work will not be in vain after all."

"Then, he'll be all right?" He pressed her for a definitive answer. He almost couldn't breathe, awaiting her answer.

She smiled, the barest of smiles, her eyes twinkling at his eagerness. "Eventually, so it would seem."

"Eventually?" he echoed, delight dimming quickly.

"You must understand, Vila, that the condition he was in when you brought him to us was not just the result of the last trauma, but had been building for most of his life. All that cannot be undone in a day, or even six months."

"Then how much longer?" Vila stood and began to pace. "I tell you, Gwenneth, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out."

"Do you wish to leave him with us then, and go on about your life?" Could he possibly have held out this long, waiting for his love to get through to this stubborn, broken man, only to abandon him at this point?

"No, of course not!" Vila protested, shocked into stillness. "I'll stay with him as long as he needs me, just like I always have. I never meant…"

She nodded in understanding. "Vila, your capacity for caring is greater than any I've seen in years. I think that with the powers of my people working for him and your strength behind it all, Avon will be able to lead a normal life very soon. He's a lucky man to have someone like you waiting for him."

Vila ducked his head, blushing. Shortly, though, his head came up. "Could I see him now?"

She nodded. "Of course, but don't tire him."

"Thank you." Vila breathed a sigh of relief as she left the room, her robes creating a scarlet wake behind her. Then he turned, striding quickly towards Avon's quarters.

He paused just before the entrance, gathering himself. Raising his hand to knock on the solid wooden door, he heard Avon's voice call, "Come in, Vila."

"Avon?" Vila called out, pushing open the door and entering the room. "How did you know I was out there? I know I wasn't making any noise."

The other man, sitting on the bed with a small, borrowed computer on his lap, looked almost normal to Vila's eyes. Avon raised his own eyes and smiled with genuine pleasure to see him. "I…heard your mind, Vila. It's all light and warm and bubbly, well, except for the part that's worried about me."

Vila's stared blankly in astonishment. "You mean…you can read my mind, Avon? How…why…what?"

Avon laughed, a most pleasing sound to Vila. "Gwenneth found my psi abilities when she first started working at rebuilding my mind. Somehow, the…renovation released it. I've been working with others here to develop the abilities, though I don't see a lot of use for it. I'm too old to start something like this. And no, I can't read your mind. You have the most formidable shield wall I've seen. I suspect that's why the Federation was never able to condition you. Gwenneth can show you how to lower your shields, though, so that I can talk to you in your mind, if you want." He eyed Vila, trying to gauge his reaction to this news. This was so far out of range of anything that had ever been between them, that he feared Vila might, finally, have had too much, might pull back, might reject him. Two lines of worry formed between his eyebrows, mute markers of his uncertainty.

Vila saw the way Avon looked away, saw the tension across his shoulders, saw the myriad clues of body language that, to him, were an open book. He smiled, a secret smile that Avon didn't see, then sat down on the edge of the bed, laying a gentle hand on Avon's arm, saying, "I…think I'd like that, Avon. I'll ask Gwenneth. But…" he asked curiously, "what does it feel like, if you…knock…on my shields.?"

"Like this." Avon went still, a look of concentration coming over his face.

Vila blinked. He felt a tickle, almost a scratching, in his mind. "Oh," he exclaimed. "That's the same feeling I got that time you came forward in time to the Liberator to get me to open your safe, remember?" (SEE Safe, a Thieves in Time Story.)

"I remember, Vila. I…guess I was using my psi powers without realizing it. Well, that certainly explains a lot, doesn't it?"

Vila nodded, then leaned over and kissed Avon on the forehead.

"You can do better than that," Avon said, looking up at him suggestively.

Vila did, in fact, do better than that, planting a searing kiss on the computer tech's mouth, letting the promise of more linger. "I love you, Avon," Vila whispered against the kiss and was surprised and pleased that this time he wasn't shushed from the declaration of his feelings. Abandoning Avon's mouth for the time being, he followed the line of his jaw upward, nibbling on his lover's earlobe, feeling the shiver he'd caused quiver through Avon's whole body.

Avon let the computer slide away onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Vila's waist, then captured his head, answering Vila's passion with a deep kiss of his own. When they finally came up for air, Avon said tentatively, "They…tell me that I'll be able to leave here sometime soon and only come back for treatments and therapy a couple of times as week until they feel I'm cured."

Vila's eyes lit up, his face a picture of joy like Avon couldn't remember seeing in a great long time. "Really? That's marvelous news! Then maybe we can get back and pick up where we left off."

Avon went silent and pensive before he responded to Vila's enthusiasm. Was Vila so ready to go back, to fight for the rebels again? Somehow, he hadn't expected that from Vila. "I…I'll have to stay on this planet for quite awhile yet, Vila."

Vila caught his eyes, staring deeply into their dark depths. He tilted his head, uncertain of the undercurrents he saw there. "You know, I never thought I'd see you quite so accepting of medical treatment."

Avon covered his face with both hands, drawing them downward, before he answered. "Vila, I have a lot of things inside me that I need to take care of." He sighed, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shed a burdensome weight. "These people have shown me that and helped me more than any other I've ever encountered. I'm willing to give them the chance, if it'll mean I can live without guilt and shame for the rest of my life. It's my last hope for a future." He grasped Vila's hand. "My hope for our future." He willed Vila to understand. He was doing this for both of them.

Vila returned the grip. "Yes, Avon, I think you are definitely getting better."

"Excuse me." A young, grey-clad girl, with the bright red hair he'd come to expect inside the tower, stood in the doorway. "The Lady Gwenneth said that Vila must leave now. She said Avon must have a nap." She took the computer from the indignant man's lap and placed it on a table out of his reach. "Now," she smiled at him.

"Well, I never could refuse a pretty face," Avon said, his mouth twisted in a wry grin as he slid down in the bed, allowing himself to be settled, fussed over, and tucked in. "See you later, Vila," he called softly as he snuggled into the pillow.

In the corridor, the girl stopped Vila with a kind hand on his arm. "You could return and share the evening's meal with him. Lady Gwenneth suggested you might like that."

Vile brightened, smiling quickly with pleasure. "I'd like that very much, thank you." Vila sketched a slight bow as he took his leave of the girl.

The horse he'd arrived on stood patiently waiting outside. Vila took the reins and mounted, still a little uneasy with the mode of transportation. On this planet, however, except for power transports used in the distant spaceport and psi-powered vehicles he didn't trust, horseback was the only way to travel, since there were few roads. He touched his heels to the animal's flanks and guided it back toward the estate where he'd been living and working since their arrival.

His mind was busy, though, churning with anticipation and just a slight dread. Tonight he would tell Avon what he'd discovered here and see if he agreed with Vila's decision.

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Seated at the small table in Avon's room, Vila polished off his second glass of wine and poured another for Avon.

"I hate being cooped up, Vila," Avon groused.

"Gwenneth told me you've been 'exploring' the tower complex quite thoroughly of late, 'getting into mischief' was how she put it. Doesn't sound cooped up to me." He smiled over at Avon, cocking his head, eyes twinkling.

"But it's still so limiting!" He slammed his fist on the table in frustration, sloshing the wine out of his glass.

Vila knew the time had come for his news. "Well," he began, casually, "Gwenneth did say she'd release you for an overnight visit in a week or so. Into my custody, as she put it." He looked up from contemplating his dinner plate to see how Avon was taking this.

"Next week? Your custody?" he asked, stunned by this sudden answer to all his prayers. His face and body language were giving nothing away to Vila, which frightened him. Had he phrased it badly? Would Avon revert to his snarky, high-handed persona, rejecting Vila as anything like a guardian?

Vila rushed on, defending his words. "Why not? Until you can take care of yourself, you'll need help. Who else would you trust?"

Avon sat still, thinking a moment, while Vila waited for his verdict. Avon studied his plate, unseeing, suddenly unsure of himself. He'd come such a long way since Gauda Prime, in distance, in learning about himself, in the way he felt about this marvelous man. "I'm not sure I'll ever completely trust anyone again, Vila…except you." He looked up, his face a study in hope.

Vila met his eyes. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing there, so he asked, "But you are willing to trust me, aren't you, Avon?"

Avon reached across the table, taking Vila's hand. "Yes." That single word spoke volumes and, for several moments, it was enough to hold hands and stare into each other's eyes. Then Vila felt a tremor in Avon's hand and realized how severely this was taxing Avon's almost non-existent reserves, so he brought the evening to a close.

Releasing Avon's hand with a pat of reassurance, he said, "It's time for me to go. The ride back is going to unpleasant as it is, with the weather closing in. And I think it's time for you to be in bed."

"I'm tired of being in bed…alone, Vila." He frowned, making it clear who he'd rather be in bed with.

Vila grinned, acknowledging the merit of the idea. "I know, but I hardly think the people that run this place would appreciate my crawling in there with you."

"Probably not, but the idea is definitely one for future consideration," Avon chuckled as he climbed back into the bed.

The former thief leaned over and kissed Avon on the forehead, then on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He settled his lover into the bed, before slipping out the heavy door, with one quick backward glance and a wink, before he lost sight of him.

Avon watched him go and allowed his eyes to close. He was tired, though he'd tried to convince Vila otherwise. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, thinking with pleasant anticipation of being released into Vila's 'custody'.

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_A/N: How will Avon react to his outing with Vila? Can he handle being outside the tower?_


	6. Outing

_A/N: The usual disclaimers apply: I don't own either Blake's Seven or Darkover. I just enjoy messing with the characters._

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Five days later, Vila was waiting again, this time, though, Gwenneth had allowed her patient to be away for a full day and night in Vila's care.

"Remember," she cautioned him, "if he shows any signs of mental or physical distress other than what would be normal from his illness, you are to bring him back here immediately. It is of the utmost importance."

"I understand," Vila told her and turned to find Avon standing behind him in the doorway, wearing a rough-woven hooded cloak over his usual tunic and trews. Even those were heavier than usually needed about the tower, since the weather outside had taken a turn for the cooler temperatures. The clothes gave Avon a bulkier appearance than Vila was used to.

"Well, I see my parole officer awaits," he joked. "I only wish all my incarcerations had been as benevolent as this one promises to be."

In his embarrassment, Vila blushed, then took Avon's hand. "Come on, you, we only have one day and I intend to make full use of it."

Outside, Vila's horse waited patiently, head down, hip shot, with another beside it, an extra-gentle mare, normally reserved for teaching children to ride, for Avon.

"I hope you don't mind riding, Avon," Vila said apologetically. "There aren't many roads around here, so most travel is on horseback."

Avon had stopped, looking dubiously at the horses. "It's been a very long time since I sat a horse, Vila. I'm not sure I remember what to do."

"Come on. You don't have to do much of anything," Vila assured him. "Just get on Lily's back and hold the reins. She'll follow me and Bruno."

Avon mounted awkwardly, holding the reins loosely, finding that the memory of earlier times with Vila, pursuing this activity, was still intact. He found himself wondering what kind of speed he could get out of this dumpy grey horse. A memory floated through his mind of the wind in his face as he raced, carefree, across a grassy pasture, Vila shouting for him to wait up.

"No racing though, Avon," Vila cautioned, almost reading Avon's mind as he watched the man settle more comfortably into the saddle, his body language changing from apprehension to ease. "I promised Gwenneth you'd behave yourself."

Avon chuckled good-naturedly, a wry twist to his lips. "From the looks of this animal, Vila, I don't think I'd be much of a challenge."

"Good," Vila said, nodding. "Now, we'd better head back to the estate." He prodded his bay into an easy amble, letting Avon get used to being in the saddle.

Avon pulled in beside Vila, already remembering to use his legs to guide the mare. "You have quarters there, then?" He had never questioned Vila about his activities and housing. Somehow, he just hadn't been curious enough to ask. They'd spent their brief times together discussing Avon's progress and sorting through Avon's memories. It seemed they'd been stuck in the past. Well, now it was time for him to start thinking about the future.

Vila shrugged. "Well, it's just a room, actually, with small cooking facilities. Not much but it's enough."

"Does it have a big enough bed for the two of us?" Avon managed a leer in spite of himself.

"Of course it does," Vila said indignantly. "D'you think I'd consider anything else?"

After stabling their horses, Vila stood irresolute at the barn doors. The courtyard was lit by lanterns and torches, throwing a golden glow across the packed earth. Far away, they could hear voices and laughter, backed by the music of some stringed instrument. That gave Vila an idea. "Well, we could go down to the tavern for a bite to eat before…"

"You're joking, of course?" Avon asked seriously.

"You're not hungry? After that ride?"

"Yes, but food is not what I want right now, Vila, and you know it."

Vila grinned at Avon and took his hand. "Well, then, let's just see if that bed really is big enough, shall we?"

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"See, I brought him back safe and sound," Vila informed the young girl who had received Avon back into the tower, "just like I said I would."

"We never doubted you, Vila," Gwenneth said, joining them in the entryway. "Were there any problems?"

"None that we couldn't handle," Avon answered for him. "I hope this means it won't be long before you release me completely."

"Well, not without a few conditions at first," Gwenneth replied sternly, with a tilt of her head. "You know you must continue treatment for some time after that, correct?" She raised her eyebrows in query.

"I know, I was only teasing you," Avon told the woman he'd come to trust so thoroughly.

"And Avon rarely jokes, so you must be doing something right," Vila laughed, giving the other man a small push toward the doorway. "Take it easy, love, and I'll see you later. I've got work to do."

"Are you feeling all right, Vila? Work?" He sounded almost like the Avon of old, which warmed Vila's heart.

"Come here, you!" He reached out, taking Avon's hand, and pulled him into a hug that surprised the other man. They'd been, well, circumspect with their affection for each other. It was Avon's normal mode of expression, at least in the past, and Vila had respected that, even though he disagreed with it. Now, though, they were among friends, and hadn't they just spent the better part of their time away from the tower together in bed, becoming reacquainted with each other?

Avon's initial stiffness in Vila's arms was replaced quickly by a return pressure. Vila pulled back far enough to see the other's face. The fond smile he found gladdened his soul. The smile was bright, unclouded by madness and bitterness. Unselfconscious, open. At that moment, Vila began to believe in their future together.

Avon saw Vila's happiness. Somewhere deep inside he felt shame for all the pain and hardship he'd caused this wonderful man who'd only asked to love him and be loved in return. He ruthlessly stomped on the shame, consigning it to the past. He was here now, with Vila in his arms and a future he meant to spend with this man beside him, cherishing him and loving him. He couldn't resist it – he pulled Vila closer and kissed him thoroughly, hoping it could convey his love until he had the words and the courage to say it out loud.

Completely surprised at the unaccustomed public kiss, but willing, nonetheless, to participate, Vila abandoned himself to Avon. When they came up for air, a bubble of pure delighted laughter escaped his lips. He gave Avon a quick peck on the cheek, turned, and left, smiling happily.

When Vila was gone, Avon shook off the wonder of that moment and followed the healer back to his room. He was tired and he might even admit it. Then he remembered what Vila had said when he left. "You know, he's never told me what he's been doing while I was sick."

"Why, you friend has been teaching, I believe."

He stopped short in the middle of the hallway, turning toward her. He raised one hand, pointing an elegant finger at her, on his face a look of pure confusion. "Teaching? Vila? Somehow, I never thought his field of expertise was one they'd allow in schools."

Gwenneth chuckled. "He's been tutoring some of the children in the basics, plus a little advanced mathematics. The youngsters apparently quite like him."

"They would," he said wryly. In his head, he was picturing Vila teaching children to pick locks and the best way to lift a wallet.

"Come on now. I think you've had enough excitement for one day." She shooed him off to rest. "I just hope you didn't do any irreparable damage," she said severely, lightening her comment with a small smile. It was good to see the new color in his face and the brightness of his eye and quickness of his step.

"You know," Avon mused as he leaned against his room's doorframe. "I'm tired, but I haven't felt this good in over two standard years."

"Vila is good for you, I think," Gwen told him.

"Very good for me," he agreed.

"Well, since you obviously passed this test, I think it's time we started making plans for your release."

Avon straightened in stunned surprise. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes, Avon. This past week you've shown a remarkable recovery. It is time you started living again."

"Thank you," he whispered, moving quietly into his room, to lie on his bed. He sighed, his eyes beginning to close even though he wanted to stay awake and consider his next move. Oh, well, he thought distantly, there was always tomorrow. I like the sound of that, tomorrow. He slid easily into an undisturbed slumber.

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_A/N: Hurray! Avon's leaving the tower! But can he cope with Vila's revelations when he does?_


	7. The Big Day

_A/N: The usual disclaimers apply: I don't own either Blake's Seven or Darkover. I just enjoy messing with the characters._

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"Well, today's the day, isn't it?" Vila said from the doorway of Avon's room. "Here," he said, tossing a bundle to the other man.

"What's this?" Avon asked, catching it awkwardly.

"A present. Open it."

Avon turned away, carefully unwrapping the brown paper and string package. Inside he found clothing similar to what Vila habitually wore: loose fitting shirt and vest, leather boots, and a cloak of wool and fur, all in earth colors. His, though, were in a different colour scheme. The breeches were black and the shirt of a heavy white knubbly material. There was also a grey vest and boots. Avon shed his simple tunic and trews, dressed and turned to model his new image.

"Very nice," Vila complimented. "Very nice indeed."

"Thank you, Vila," Avon returned, bowing slightly. "I'd become very tired of wearing borrowed clothing. I like these, Vila, very much. However," he continued, "there's no gun. Am I allowed any weapons or do they not trust me quite that far yet?" He was making a joke out of it, but he did feel naked without the reassuring weight of a weapon on his belt.

"Guns aren't allowed outside of Trade City or the Spaceport, Avon. They have a law here, an ancient law, that says the only weapon allowable is one that permits an arm's length between opponents. Archaic, but it keeps the peace, well, most of the time."

Avon went suddenly quiet and looked at the floor as memories came flooding back: red light, alarm klaxons, blood, a body between his feet. "Sometimes arm's length is more than enough."

Vila grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Talk like that very much, Avon, and they may just decide to keep you here for another six months!"

"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, looking up into Vila's caring eyes. "Gwenneth did tell me I would have occasional lapses. I guess that was one of them."

"Well, let's make sure it doesn't happen too often, okay?"

Avon nodded, then changed the subject. "I hope there's an outer garment to go with this outfit."

"Sure is." Vila tossed something over to him. "Here."

Avon caught it and held it out. It was a magnificent cloak of black wool with grey fur lining and hood. There was a pair of matching gloves inside the hood. The clasp was a pair of golden lion's heads.

"It's very nice, Vila, thank you." Avon was almost speechless with delight, running a slow hand through the fur and over the closely woven fabric. There was something to be said for the sensual feel of woven material and fur that more modern fabrics just couldn't match.

"Well, I see you're almost ready to leave us, then, Avon?" Gwenneth said as she entered the room. "I take it the new clothes fit?"

"Quite nicely," Avon assured her. "You have very good taste."

"Oh, but I had nothing to do with it. Vila did it all himself. I just told him who the best clothing merchant was. He made the selections himself."

Avon looked at Vila, warmth and approval in his eyes. "Well, then, I approve."

"Good." Vila pulled him towards the door. "Come on, let's go."

Outside, Vila grinned as they moved toward the waiting horses. "The mare wasn't available this time. Hope you don't mind a little more spirited ride."

"I'd welcome it." Avon appraised the horse Vila had supplied, a large black gelding, approvingly. He drew on his gloves and mounted easily, throwing the cloak out behind him on the black's rump. "Well, Vila, shall we make this a race then?"

Vila laughed happily. "You're on!" He urged his own bay forward, while Avon did likewise, and soon the two of them were galloping headlong over the knolls between the tower and the estate.

As they rode, Avon realized that Vila had led him away from their usual destination. His hood had blown back, letting his long black hair whip in the breeze. He called out to Vila, "Aren't we going the wrong way?"

Vila slowed his horse and waited for Avon to circle back to him. "No, I have something I want to show you."

They trotted now, allowing the animals to cool off gradually, for several kilometers. Finally, topping a rise, Vila pulled to a halt and pointed down into the next valley. "There," he said quietly.

Avon shaded his eyes, looking for their destination. "It's a house, Vila."

"It's our house, Avon, if you agree to it," Vila said, suddenly shy and uncertain. He'd planned for this day for so long, but he'd never been sure how Avon would react. This new Avon, unburdened by the past, seemed ready to step into their future together, but maybe Vila had read him wrong, or there were angles he wasn't seeing, or any one of a hundred details he'd missed. He just wanted things to be perfect for Avon.

"Our house?" Avon turned astonished eyes on Vila. "You bought a house?"

"Well, not yet. But I have made inquiries. Come on, I want you to get a closer look."

Vila led the way down the hill to the entrance of what appeared to be an abandoned estate. Walking their horses past tumbled down gates and abandoned outbuildings, they drew up in the shadow of more of a shell than a house.

"It looks like no one's lived here for a century." Avon eyed the walls appraisingly.

"Not quite that long, I'm told," Vila informed him. "It has been a long time, though."

Avon dismounted and walked to the steps. They were in sad disrepair and he feared he'd fall and break something if he tried to go inside.

"There's a back entrance that's safer. Come on." Vila beckoned to him, dismounting and leading his horse and Avon's around the corner.

Avon followed quietly, inspecting everything about the house on the way. "You appear to have done some investigation on your own," he commented.

"Yes, I have," Vila nodded, very serious now. "Avon, I won't press you, but I feel at home here, on this planet, more than I've felt in over twenty years. I have no family left and neither do you. We're accepted here for what we are. No one cares about the price on our heads from the Federation. Those days are gone. I'm tired of having to worry about watching my back. I want to put down some roots. This is as good a place as any I can think of." There. He'd presented his case, as well as he could. How would Avon take it?

"And how long did it take you to prepare that little speech, Vila?" Avon said, equally serious, his face and body language giving away nothing.

"I'm just trying to convince you of the sense of all this."

Avon's brow furrowed skeptically. "This is a ruined mansion, Vila. Do you honestly think we could make a go of it here?"

"I most certainly do," Vila asserted firmly. "Come inside and let me show you around," he said eagerly, leading the way.

They entered by the back way, as Vila had indicated. Even in the state the old place had sunk to, its former splendor seemed to shout from the walls. Avon walked through the rooms and up the massive staircase which, miraculously, was still intact. He ran his hands over the beams and superstructure approvingly. "Yes, Vila, I see what you mean. It must have been quite a showplace in its day."

"I'm told it was confiscated from one of the minor clans that fell into disfavour in the last century. No one's lived here since. We could take possession of it for very little money."

"That's good," Avon said, "because I hate to think what it will cost to rebuild the place."

Vila sucked in his lower lip, trying to find the courage to tell Avon the rest of his plan. Not daring to face Avon, he ducked his head as he began. "Uh, well, we do have enough money, you see. I…had ORAC find out where you hid the funds you embezzled from the Federation. It took him awhile, but he was successful in the end. We…uh…set up a trading company in the outer fringes of the Federation and we've…been converting it into trade goods that were imported here. Uh…we've been quite successful, in fact." He looked up at Avon finally, defiant and apprehensive at once. "We're very rich, actually, at least on paper. We can do pretty much whatever we want to now," he finished, and waited for Avon's reaction.

"You…and ORAC found my money and used it?" Avon's voice was so flat and expressionless that Vila feared he'd been too abrupt or had trespassed somehow on Avon's privacy, the usual cause for this kind of response.

Vila's fears were banished as Avon smiled widely and exclaimed, "Why, Vila, what a marvelous idea! I'd forgotten completely about that money." He suddenly sobered, his smile turning feral, and continued, "Oh, how fitting, Vila, that the money I took from my father should be the basis of our new life together."

Vila gulped at the sudden reminder of the old, troubled Avon, but that man vanished in an instant as Avon went on, his smile containing genuine warmth and humor now. "Are you asking me to live here with you, Vila?"

He blinked several times, trying to keep up with this new turn of the conversation. Then he nodded, a smile playing at his lips. "Yes, I guess I am."

"Well, it may come as a shock to you, but I could live anywhere so long as you're with me. Even that bare room at the estate. But this place…" He stretched out his arms to encompass the room. "Yes, I could most definitely live here with you."

Vila breathed a relieved sigh. It was going to be all right! Taking Avon's arm, he led the man through the open double doors into a large empty room lined with shelves. It was probably a library, he thought. "Good. Well, we've seen the house, so let's tour the grounds and other buildings. Maybe tomorrow we can talk to the magistrate about transferring ownership to us."

Avon turned a speculative eye on Vila. "You've become quite a businessman in my absence, haven't you?"

That stopped Vila. He hadn't thought of himself that way; he'd just done what needed doing. He raised his hands, palms up, shrugging his shoulders. "Didn't have much choice, Avon."

The tech pulled the other man into an embrace. "It hasn't been easy for you, has it, Vila? These past months, waiting for me while I was…away."

"I told you a long time ago that I would always stay by your side. I meant it then and I mean it now." Vila kissed him softly, then pulled away with a smile. "Come on, I want to show you the rest of the place. There's stables and barns and land for crops and pasture. Avon, what we could do with this place…"

Avon looked around again, this time with a critical eye to the potential. "I think once we've stripped away all the old internal walls, we could manage to import power for a computer link."

"Of course we could." Vila was getting more and more enthusiastic. "Come on, let's finish our race!"

**EPILOGUE**

Standing on the lip of the landing field, his cloak blowing about him and his white-winged hair lashing his face, Avon surveyed the burgeoning estate they called home spreading out before them. With his hands on his hips, legs astraddle, he looked defiant to Vila, coming up beside him.

After a few moment's silence, Vila inquired gently, "What do you see, Avon?"

"Home, Vila, I see home." He turned with a brilliant smile and pulled the other man into a warm embrace and even warmer kiss. Pulling back, Avon held Vila at arms' length and laughed at the surprised expression on Vila's face. "I think we've finally found a home, Vila, and, maybe, peace."

"I…I hope so, Avon. We deserve it, ya know."

"Do you know the local word for peace, Vila?" Avon asked out of the blue, his head atilt.

"No, do you?" he returned.

"It's Avilla and that's what I'd like to call our home, if you have no objections," he said, serious now.

"Avilla. I like that. Yes, I think it's a good name for home. Avilla it is."

Avon smiled again, reached out for a quick hug, then both proceeded down the switchback trail to Avilla and home.

B7B7B7B7B7

_A/N: This is the end of OUT OF THE DARKNESS. The next piece of the story is called HOUSEWARMING. Everyone who is anyone is coming to celebrate with Avon and Vila and Cally. But can Vila get Avon to wear his kilt?_


End file.
